


a threefold cord is not quickly broken

by Ingi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bible Quotes, Blanket Permission, Breaking Celibacy Vows, Feels, Forced Marriage, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Priests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingi/pseuds/Ingi
Summary: “Yes,” Theo said, and saw William smile wider.Only a handful of years later, Theo knelt before the altar and said the same thing, over and over, and it felt like but an eccho of what it had been back then.
Relationships: Male Priest Being Forced To Give Up His Vows To Marry For Political Reasons/His Husband, Older sibling & younger sibling
Kudos: 16
Collections: Original Works Opportunity 2020





	a threefold cord is not quickly broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonster/gifts).



> I know nothing about Catholicism. I've also clearly forgotten everything about writing. But this story clearly just wanted to be written, so I let it be.

Theo met him on a Sunday.

The shadowed city, the smell of the impending storm hanging in the air like a threat, Philip’s cold hand grasping his own. They were on their way back from Sunday school - Theo would always remember because he felt lighted up inside down to his toes, but Philip walked fast and did not smile, too lost in his own thoughts.

Theo’s brother, always dreaming of the sea. Always longing for what he could not grasp.

They sat on a bench at the bay, Theo with his notebook balanced on his knees, Philip staring straight ahead at the waves. The Church spoke of things Theo wished his brother would listen to. _Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor_ , Theo wrote, dutifully. _If they stumble, the first will lift up his friend, but woe to anyone who is alone when he falls and there is no one to lift him up_.

“We should go back, Philip,” he said, putting his pencil down. “Mother will be worried.”

“That ship,” Theo’s brother replied, pointing at a small vessel swaying by the dock, “wouldn’t it be grand, to sail away on it? Nothing for miles and miles, only your thoughts and the horizon.”

“I imagine it’d be quite lonely,” Theo responded, truthfully.

Philip smiled, but said nothing. The waves were reflected on his eyes, blue within blue, almost impossible to disentangle.

“Mother won’t worry,” he said, as he stood from the bench. He ruffled Theo’s hair. “Stay right here, alright? I’m going down to the docks - I think Old Joe’s the captain of that beauty and I can see him from here, I just want to ask him about it.” There was a small figure by the ship, gesturing at two other small figures about places Theo and his brother would never get to see. “Be back before you know it, just keep up with your studies.”

So Theo picked the pencil back up and scribbled away, _Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone?_ , as Philip’s figure became smaller and smaller.

On the bench in front of his, two brothers squabbled, one tall and blond-haired and the other Theo’s height and dark-haired. The older of the two pushed the younger away, shaking his head and whispering urgently. Theo remembered seeing him in town, baiting other men and badmouthing women, wide-eyed with fake innocence.

Philip had not felt close to him since the womb, but Theo felt a sudden jab of sympathy for the stranger on the other bench. That boy, someone even lonelier than even Theo himself, stuck with a brother who did see him, but only as someone to be used and thrown away when it was no longer convenient. It was so hard to breathe, with that much sadness clogging his throat.

Theo bowed his head, thinking back to the day’s teachings. _And though a man might prevail against one who is alone_ , he wrote, _two will withstand him, as a threefold cord is not quickly broken_.

“William, I said _leave_!”

Theo lifted his head once again and there he was, the dark-haired boy from the bench, standing right before him. A young man was sitting next to the boy’s brother now, laughing at whatever lies he was being told.

But it was immaterial, for William’s eyes were the summer sky, with the warm hearth around the coal of the pupil. His face was pale and freckled, a stark contrast with Theo’s own smooth umber skin. And he was _grinning_.

“Can I sit here?” he said.

Theo looked down at his hands, expecting to see them glow from the rise of warmth inside of him. There was nothing there but small fingers curled up in fear, not daring enough to reach for what they wanted.

“Yes,” he replied, and saw William smile wider.

Only a handful of years later, Theo knelt before the altar and said the same thing, over and over, and it felt like but an eccho of what it had been back then.

The stole was wrapped around him and there was no William to offer a grin.

“ _Before I formed you in the womb I knew you_ ,” the bishop entoned, warmly, as Theo was made to stand and face the congregation, “ _and before you were born I consecrated you_. _I appointed you a prophet to the nations_.”

From the benches, Philip nodded at him in his dark blue shirt and vacant smile, his Sunday best. His husband’s hand wrapped around his wrist, a thumb over his tender pulse point, and their mothers sat side by side and whispered to each other.

It was on the way back home when Philip shook Robert’s hand off and walked to the back of the group, the last of which was Theo, delayed by all the well-wishers. He wrapped their fingers together and leaned in, shaky breath brushing Theo’s ear.

“ _Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples will be separated from your body_ ,” he mumbled. “ _And one people shall be stronger than the other_.”

“Philip?” Theo whispered back, staring straight ahead at their mother, her pinched expression and the obvious apology in the way Philip’s mother-in-law held herself.

“I thought you might like it, that’s all,” Philip said. “Genesis.”

“The birth of Esau and Jacob,” he replied, trying not to scowl in confusion.

His brother had never felt that cold, although the wind blowing might have been stronger than Theo himself believed. The air smelled of sea water and grease, even though the docks were far behind.

Theo should have seen it coming.

But it had been oh-so-long since he had last felt his brother’s heart match his own, and he no longer knew of what was whispered between beats.

“Your Robert is a beast!” Theo’s mother was screaming, like he had never heard her scream before. “A wolf that you did your best to sell as dog! And now he’s turned and gone feral and it’s my family that has to endure the consequences!”

“Catherine-”

Sudden silence, then the muffled sound of someone in a skirt sitting back down slowly, like a skittish fawn. Theo pulled the covers over his head and tried to breathe.

“He drove my son away! You took my eldest son, Elizabeth! And now the entire town is whispering away, thinking themselves in the right to judge my parenting and my line!”

“I understand that Robert’s behavior was unnaceptable,” Elizabeth said, voice shaking in either indignation or shame, perhaps both. “As I said, he will be punished for it. But Catherine- you know Philip was never quite settled in his own life. We discussed it over a year ago by the lake, remember? He was just waiting for an excuse to leave.”

“He was drawn to the docks,” Theo’s mother replied, evenly, with a barely repressed undercurrent of fury. “My children do tend to be drawn to quite inconvenient places. The oldest, to the sea. The youngest, to the Church. I indulged Theodore in the understanding that his mind was more set than his brother’s, and one of my children would still speak for the honor of my lineage.” Theo knew that pitch of his mother’s quite well. He pulled the covers tighter, awaiting the outrage that was sure to raise her voice once again. “But I made the unforgivable mistake of trusting Philip to your son and now I’ve got nothing, _nothing_ but a sailor and a priest playing havoc with my reputation!”

Theo’s mother understood so little of her children’s hearts.

There had been desperate longing in Philip’s glances at the sea, the need for quiet and independency and freedom. This, Theo himself had only come to understand too late. The truth was Robert’s mother was talking sense, and it was just a matter of time before Philip left them, sailed away on the lone ship he had admired for years.

There were so many comforting things the Church had to say about it, and yet none of it reachead Theo, none of it seemed to be quite enough. And he heard his voice become more and more desperate in his daily prayers, because the Church had never not been enough before.

“I still have another son, Catherine,” Elizabeth was saying, the same soft tone she had used to speak of Robert way back during the engagement talks. “My dear William- you know him, gentle like a newborn puppy, temperate and charming. He would be willing to marry your youngest, and you could claim him and my late wife’s state as reparations. They wouldn’t dare speak of it further in town.”

Theo knew it to be a mistake as soon as it came to him, but it was already too late. He stood, teared his door open, and walked to the kitchen table with his jaw set and his eyes flaming.

“I’m married to the Church,” he stated, plain but cutting. “I underwent the Rite of Ordination. I made the promises and sang the Litany of the Saints. I was vested with the stole and chasuble, I’m the keeper of the chalice and paten. There is no man, woman, or person who could draw my eyes away from God, and may he forgive you for even _thinking_ otherwise.”

His mother turned to look at him and he knew. He knew.

“Elizabeth, dear,” she said, still like a lioness about to pounce. “I do believe that shall do. Please let your William know he is to return immediately.”

“Mother-”

“It’s your turn to bring honor to this family, Theodore,” she replied, imperturbable as usual. “You will not disappoint me.”

“My vows-” Theo insisted, voice breaking. The visions of light, gone. The warmth, gone. Nothing could reach him, nothing. There was only Him and then He was gone and there was only Theo, who didn’t know who to be or what to do with himself.

“Vows, as we have all now learned, can be broken. Will be. You can thank your brother for that lesson.”

William returned from across the sea on a Sunday.

“Right in time for your last Mass, dear,” Elizabeth said, patting Theo’s hand in an attempt at kindness.

Theo walked past her and to the altar.

There in front of him was the congregation sitting. And making his way through the narrow corridor, charmingly laughing away the accidental stepping on other people’s feet until he reached the seat beside his mother, there was William.

Theo couldn’t see if he was still as freckled as he used to, but it didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. The words of God were in his mouth and His eyes were on him. He watched himself lead the Holy Mass like he so often had watched the previous priest, unable to intervene or completely understand what was happening by the altar.

William was staring at him from across the room. He nodded his head lightly when Theo looked back, and then he grinned.

God’s eyes on him, and now William’s. Need against need. Want against want. Tearing each other apart before the faithful, who could not see or feel or have their hand make shapes on the murky water until it cleared.

“And to end this Sunday service,” Theo heard himself say, implacable heat radiating from every part of his body and rising to his cheeks and nose in a blush, “a reflection from the Call of Jeremiah.”

The right words came to him before he knew or could do anything to control them. Mother was watching. Elizabeth was watching. And William, who might actually understand, most of all.

“ _I will declare my judgments against them, for all their evil in forsaking me. They have made offerings to other gods and worshiped the works of their own hands_ \- ”

\- the stubborness of his mother’s jaw, Elizabeth’s bitten lips -

“- _but you, dress yourself for work, arise, and say to them everything that I command you_. _Do not be dismayed by them, lest I dismay you before them_ \- ”

\- the light was leaving and so was the warmth, just like Philip had done, and it was only Theo and no one else, just Theo all alone before the altar in an empty room with an empty heart and God’s voice weakening -

“- _and I, behold, I make you this day a fortified city, an iron pillar, and bronze walls, against the whole land, against the kings of Judah, its officials, its priests, and the people of the land_ \- ”

\- he couldn’t do it alone, he couldn’t lose God’s voice, there would be nothing left if he did, no guidance and no hands to hold him and no joy -

“- _they will fight against you, but they shall not prevail against you, for I am with you, declares the Lord, to deliver you_.”

William was still smiling at him. Theo closed his eyes and walked into the congregation.

Hours later, when all the faithful had left, William was still there by Elizabeth and Theo’s mother, still smiling. And even before he made his way to Theo and took his hands in his own, so extraordinarily warm, Theo knew he was lost.

“Jeremiah 1:16 to 1:19,” William said, seemingly pleased.

Theo looked straight into his eyes, a placid sky that spoke of better times and the fireplace around which those better times were had.

“I’m Father Theodore,” he greeted him, as calm as he could afford. “I was wed to the Lord a year ago and it is a commitment that cannot be broken.”

William released his hands, gently but lingering.

“I knew you when you were only Theo, although regretfully not for very long,” he replied. He didn’t look away. Theo had known him in his dreams for years, a whisper behind a prayer, booming laughter pulling him away from nightmares. “I wouldn’t dare take a man away from his spouse, particularly when I can’t presume to be a better match.”

“You’ll do just fine, William,” Elizabeth said earnestly, coming up behind him and squeezing his shoulder.

Theo tried not to smile at William’s wink, the complicity of a joke that harmed no one but was only understood as amusing by a few selected people.

“Theodore, let us discuss your letter to the bishop,” Theo’s mother said. “I’m certain he’ll realize you have other obligations that must take precedence over your vows, but smart wording can only help.”

And gone were the joy and the warmth, the belonging. But even as his mother spoke of a future that would bring him nothing but despair and regret, Theo could hear his brother’s voice in the back of his head, singing of the sea.

“I was learning under an old family friend, but dear God his art was terrible,” William said, grinning. “He thought the same of mine, of course- it’s just part of the profession.”

Theo joined him at the back of the attic, windows bathing the half-finished paintings in the dying light of the evening.

“Surely he didn’t get to see this?” he asked, pointing at a particularly lovely composition.

A garden, luscious like he imagined that of Eden to have been, and two men sharing a passion fruit under a tree. Theo would likely not be welcome at the church very soon, but if it still were in his hands, he would ask that William were given any requests for art.

“Oh, he did see it,” William laughed, unconcerned. “He called it a disgrace, and uninspired.”

“ _A false witness that speaketh lies, and he that soweth discord among brethren_ ,” Theo entoned, shaking his head. “An abomination to the Lord, that is.”

William’s smile was the Sun on the Fourth Day, still bearing the touch of divinity.

“I’ll let him know.” He laced his arm through Theo’s and gently tugged him from the first strokes of a small boat to two boys sitting on a bench at a bay. “He does have his fair criticism of my work, however,” he said, softly wading through the sudden silence. “I can only paint what I know.”

Theo stilled and saw himself through the eyes of a young boy with freckles sitting on a bench across his. The gentle shine of his skin in the light of the bay. The notebook balanced on bony knees. Beautiful sad eyes, and hands curled around nothing on his lap, waiting to be held.

Philip was a blur of white and blue, a wave rising and about to crash back into the sea.

“Did he forget to mention that you’re quite bad at landscapes?” Theo said, steadily. Everything behind and around the bench was blurred much like Philip was, but even more so, merely a mixture of colors that reminded of the bay. “If so, I believe he chose to focus on the wrong criticism.”

William hid his face in Theo’s shoulder, but Theo could feel the barely restrained smile down to his bones.

“I did say I can only paint what I know. When I saw you- everything else faded.”

Theo unlaced their arms slowly, and wrapped his newly free arm around William. He was thinking of the freckled boy from the bay. He was thinking of Philip, entoning his wedding vows with his eyes turned towards the docks. Whatever his brother had found in the sea, Theo was now seeking in the clear sky of William’s eyes.

Philip had made false vows, and then he had broken them. Whether he had intended them to be fake on the first place was immaterial. It was a lesser evil that they had been broken, rather than have them be fulfilled.

But Theo heard God in his head as clear as day, felt him in-between the beat of his own heart where Philip’s heartbeat used to be.

You do not turn a vow false by wanting something else more.

“If I hadn’t taken the vows, I would- ” he said, softly, but went silent when William took his hand in his.

“I know.”

They were married on a Tuesday.

The new priest was wearing Theo’s stole, only it wasn’t Theo’s anymore, because Theo’s husband was beaming at him while he said his wedding vows. It was almost impossible to grieve when William looked at him like he had at the bay, so many years ago.

Theo recited his own vows and his voice did not shake, and his hands were equally steady, and he felt not the pure light of God filling him, only joy. But joy was light, and curled in his chest not unlike divinity, and was just as pure.

His days might have belonged to God, but his nights had always been William’s. When the Sun set there had been no thoughts of the Lord, only the memory of William’s smile and the touch of his hand on his. His mind did not seek God while dreaming, only William.

For so long he had known it as weakness, without understanding.

When they were declared husbands, William’s trembling lips on his, Theo felt his vow to God snap in his chest. But there was no emptiness, no loneliness, the light was still bright.

He turned his head and whispered, gently, three words right into his husband’s ear.

When they pulled apart, William’s eyes were shining, and Theo was certain, then, he had understood.

“Please, no more ships.”

“If you didn’t want me to paint ships, then you shouldn’t have agreed to live by the bay,” William replied, good-humored, already drafting another vessel.

“I’m only human,” Theo sighed in dramatic regret. “Humans make mistakes, dear.”

“And God will forgive you, then- as long as we attend Mass.”

Theo chose not to comment that he would already be at church if it weren’t for him. He merely stood by the door, glancing at the light shining on his husband, and waited, just like he had waited the first time.

“You never did show me your last painting,” he said, smiling.

William pointed somewhere behind him, and Theo turned to see a perfect recreation of a small ship docked in the bay, two figures on board, one of them waving.

“It has been sailing in and out of the bay for more than a year,” William said, distractedly. “It was only docked for more than a day this week, so I could finaly finish it, thank God.”

Theo thought of a bench at the bay, and the docks under them. Two figures on a ship. _Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone?_ On the side of the ship, the name _Jacob_ was carefully drawn. _  
_

_Two nations are in your womb_.

The church was as lively as usual for Holy Mass, but a man with the sea in his eyes was saving them a seat. He lifted his head to look at them and smiled, like he had not done since childhood.

“Theo,” he said, clutching his hand, and gestured at the man beside him. “Francis, my husband.” _  
_

“And William, mine,” Theo replied through tears. He took his husband’s hand in his free one. “William, I don’t think you ever got to meet my brother Philip.” _  
_

“I’m certain there’ll be time after Mass,” William said, smiling. _  
_

There was light, and there was joy, and there was love. Everything Theo had been seeking, everything he had believed himself unworthy of, everything he had feared had been forever lost.

And as the priest greeted them, Theo could suddenly hear, clearer than he ever had, the voice of God. _  
_


End file.
